Birthday Cake
by basedfran
Summary: Fuuta takes a deep breath and grips their fork tight. They blow out their candles, wishing for a strong stomach, and begin eating. They'll die tonight, but at least they'll die for love.


i wrote a really short thing for fuutas birthday. at first i was gonna post something a little angsty, but since khr fandom is half dead i typed up something sugary and comedic (? maybe? im not funny lol) since i didnt want their only birthday fic to be sad…

quick note is that fuutas nb in this and goes by she/he/they pronouns interchangeably, but will be referred to as 'they' in the actual writing (if that makes sense?) don't think anyone's going to read this but yeah

* * *

" **HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FUUTA!** " Two pairs of knobby knees drive into Fuuta's stomach, violently slamming them out of the slumber.

Fuuta's eyes snap open as they lurch up into a sitting position before dropping back down on their pillow hard like a sack of stones. They let out wheezy groans as the twitch, shoving the two weights (Lambo and I-Pin if their shadowy silhouettes were anything to go by) on their stomach to the side to get just a taste of air. Their eyes water as they roll to their side, clutching their stomach.

"Thank you..." they wheeze, letting their head hang over the edge of their bed just in case they vomit. It's then, looking down at the floor with their blurry double-vision, that they notice Fran isn't in bed with them or laying on the floor beside them. "Wh-where's-?"

A high pitched whistle directs their attention to the bedroom door. Fran's standing there with a cake in his hands, his face looking soft and warm in the orange light of the fourteen green and white birthday candles burning on top of it. "They woke me up at eleven to watch them make this for you, so if you don't eat it all I'm sending you to the Shadow Realm."

"We hurried to make it so you'd have fresh cake right at twelve o'clock." Lambo says, crawling over to pet Fuuta's hair.

"It's mango flavored! Your favorite!" I-Pin adds, squeezing their hand, her still growing Japanese coming out in quick, happy chirps.

Fuuta gives them a lopsided smile that they're not sure anyone can see in the dark. They slip down onto the floor, settling down just as Fran finishes arranging the tea table and cake in front of them.

Lambo and I-Pin slide off the bed as well to take a spot on either side of them and Fran plops down across the table, setting a fork in front of them. For a moment, the world revolves around Fuuta and they're surrounded by love and warmth. The whole picture is completely perfect.

Except for the cake.

Fuuta knows it's the thought that counts, but they know, even looking at it in the dark, that it's one _ugly_ pastry.

It's a sloppy thing that's slathered unevenly with chunky white frosting. It's, for lack of a better term, _dented_ two deep craters sitting in the middle of it, stringy shreds of mango draped over them in an attempt to hide the mistake under more imperfections. The random spots where they missed frosting the cake give them an idea on how oddly burnt it is. Some parts are jet black, like fresh dirt peeking out under snow, and some parts are doughy and pale, telling them it's under cooked.

They feel expectant eyes on them, I-Pin and Lambo directing their gooey smiles up at them.

They pick up their fork and tap the side of the cake.

It makes a thick clunking sound.

"Did you-did you help them with this, uh, lovely cake, Fran?"

"Nope. I just watched to make sure they didn't kill themselves trying to make it. This is all them." There's a twinkle in Fran's eyes as he leans forward to get a better view of Fuuta's expression. They know he's basically reading their mind and loving the predicament they're in.

Fuuta bites their lip. It would've made them feel better to know someone who could actually bake helped make this.

A tug on both sides of their shirt bring pulls them out of thought. He glances back and forth at Lambo and I-Pin. In the silvery moonlight slipping in through a crack in their curtains, they can confusion etched on their little faces.

Fuuta takes a deep breath and grips their fork tight. They blow out their candles, wishing for a strong stomach, and begin eating.

They'll die tonight, but at least they'll die for love.

* * *

"You guys remember the year we gave Fuuta diarrhea with that cake we made?" Lambo asks years later, just as Fran sets down a much different (much _better_ ) cake in front of Fuuta.

Fuuta groans, sliding down in their seat. "Did you have to bring that up right before we eat this years cake? The memory makes me queasy, and I still can't even _look_ at mango sponge cake without getting cramps."

"I still can't believe we confused vinegar with vegetable oil." I-Pin says before glancing at Fran, sending him a half hearted glare. "Why didn't you try to stop us? You were watching us that whole time."

Fran shrugs, lighting up the twenty two candles he's arranged on the cake. "It was funnier not to."

* * *

im sorry if this is short and Bad (TM) ill post something better later this weekend i promis e i can write when its not 5am. pls comment a smile or something if you actually liked it its embarrassing posting something everyone ignores i need validation lmao


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